I Can Fix That
by reinadefuego
Summary: Luke's a tropical guy. He likes the sun, the beach, and being warm. Freezing his butt off in Russia was not the kind of holiday he had planned. Snow and Hobbs do not mix well, if at all. Luckily, Deckard's more than willing to help heat the place up. Deckard/Luke. One-shot.


Luke zips his jacket up and pulls on the thick grey hoodie he bought last night, tugging the hood on over his beanie and making sure his gloves are snug before finally stepping outside. The sidewalks have iced up, there's snow piled up on either side of the path, and the garden looks like someone went crazy with the baby powder. "Great country, love the architecture, can we leave now?"

"It's just a bit of snow." Three feet to be precise. A rapid dump overnight has turned everything whiter than Deckard's arse. "Not like it'll kill you to have some fun."

Fun, Deckard says. Now why does Luke think that suggests something that could be the complete opposite? "I thought you said we'd be going to a dacha."

"They're for summer, not winter," Deckard griped. He'd never understand the idea of working during your vacation, but he also supposed growing up in England where summer meant the coast and warmth, along with long trips in the car, had given him a somewhat different perspective. "And they're not relaxing."

"Having fun might just kill me if this snow doesn't ease up."

He scoffs and shakes his head before pulling his beanie down further, covering his ears. If Hobbs wants to see the sights, that's fine with him, but Deckard's got more interests than just seeing Red Square and following the last weeks of the Romanovs. "You'll get used to it."

Hobbs looks towards the window, thick heavy scarlet curtains keep the chill out and the roaring fire inside helps to heat the entire apartment. With two sets of bunk beds crammed into one bedroom, it's awkward and uncomfortable getting up in the mornings; unsurprisingly it's also nice. They've got a schedule for the shower, there's tea on tap, and the entire supply of coffee is _his_. "I thought you said those two would be joining us."

"I lied."

"Deckard."

"Luke." He tilts his head back as early morning snow begins to fall. Flakes land on his tongue and Deckard can't help but grin, even as the wind chill makes his teeth chatter and ache. It's cold and his nose is beginning to turn a darker shade of pink, yet he couldn't care less.

Of course sooner or later, unfortunately, something has to give.

Whether it's Luke realising their little 'family' isn't so much a family as a convicted criminal, a federal agent, and two former British SAS soldiers, hanging out in an old apartment, _or_ it's Deckard realising he enjoys this whole sardine can lifestyle and waking up to see Hobbs' feet hanging off the end of the bed, eventually the fun will end and reality will come knocking to remind them it exists.

Luke reaches up and lets the snow gather on the back of his glove, waiting till there's a fine layer of white powder before shaking it off. His ears are warm enough, but the fire inside is far more alluring than standing out here with his balls shrivelled up and his ass being frozen off.

"Wanna head back inside?"

"Not really."

"A walk then?"

Deckard rubs his hands together and nods. If not for the danger of the pavement, he'd have suggested they run. On Luke's best day, even he finds himself struggling to keep up; the feeling of his calf muscles burning is an addicting one and the past few months spent in Hobbs' presence has taught him that between a long stride and speed, the former usually turns out to be the superior asset. "Why not?

Luke waits a while before speaking again, till they've done a lap of the block and changed streets. He's curious and truthfully that's never really a good thing. "Why'd you ask me to come?"

"What d'you mean?"

"It's the middle of goddamn winter, we're in Russia, and I'm sleeping in the same room as your siblings. None of you have broken any laws, _yet_ , so I've been wondering why you invited me halfway 'round the world when I could just go to New York if I wanted to see snow."

He shrugs. He's been wondering that himself. Perhaps it was the feeling of impending loss and loneliness that provoked him to ring Hobbs up and invite him to get on a plane with them all. "Boredom?" Deckard offers, shoving his hands in his pockets. He begins to walk faster than he should but his boots keep him upright. "Hell if I know. Staring at four walls has been driving me mad and I needed to get out of the States. Thought you might like playing tourist for a week."

That's a decent enough reason as any, Hobbs supposes. He stops in the middle of the footpath and stretches his arms, rolls his shoulders, and cracks his neck before moving to take up position beside Deckard. "Well, if we're going to play tourist for the three days we have left, maybe we should travel out of the city?"

It's not a bad idea. Deckard looks Luke up and down, noting the growing mass of snow that's gathered on his beanie. "Or we could go back to the apartment, curl up in front of the fire, and eat pirozhki?"

Hobbs takes all of thirty seconds to nod. Fuck this. He's cold, uncomfortable, and at least inside they're not going to get any weird looks if they start cuddling. He moves closer to Deckard as they walk, till their biceps touch and Luke can almost feel that radiant body warmth through his clothes. "Thanks for inviting me."

"Maybe you can thank me later?"

That sly smirk combined with his tone of voice: Luke knows exactly what 'thanking him' entails. "Your brother's been holed up in the apartment for half the week, how the hell you gonna kick his ass out long enough for me to get your pants off?"

Deckard smiles. "Don't worry, I've got it sorted."

Of course he does. Luke stops in the garden once more and lets the snow gather on his bare hand, flinching at the sting of the bitter cold for the few seconds it takes Deckard to realise he's removed a glove. He slips it back on after being berated and plants a cold kiss on the tip of Deckard's Rudolph-like nose. "I can always throw him through the window."

"It'll be handled, trust me." He walks inside and drops down on the couch, landing comfortably between his two siblings. "We need the living room for the next two hours. You mind?"

They look at him as if to say 'really?' but stand without a word and grab their coats, wrapping themselves up in preparation for the first venture outside they've made since their arrival. Owen rolls his eyes and takes off without a single word spoken, Elizabeth gives Luke a wink on her way past while he stands outside flicking snow off his nose and goes in the opposite direction to her brother.

"Told you it'd be easy." Deckard ditches his shoes and taps his bare feet impatiently against the hardwood floor while Luke thumps his boots against the front step to rid them of the caked-on snow. "Care to join me for a shower?"

"Hold your horses," Luke gripes, "I've still got clothes on."

"I can fix that."


End file.
